Moving Forward
by djduchess
Summary: Toby's been hit hard by the death of Detective Charlie Marks, guilt and regret pulling him under. It's up to his good friend Osman Bey to help him get back on his feet.


**"Looking back isn't going to help you. **

**Moving forward is the thing you have to do." **

**- McKayla Maroney**

* * *

><p>There was a knocking sound pounding through his skull and he groaned as he shifted on the sofa. The sun was up and all he could do was throw his arm over his face to block it from view. His head was killing him. All he wanted was to go back to sleep and forget about everything.<p>

"Toby, man," a familiar voice broke through the haze of his mind.

Osman Bey sighed as he used his spare key to open the door to his friend's apartment. There was only so much he could do for him. He wanted to be there for him, to let him know that he wasn't alone in all of this, but Toby had taken to sealing himself off from the outside world. Ever since Detective Marks had died he'd fallen into the slump. He'd taken a leave of absence from work and Oz had only seen him outside of his apartment a handful of times.

Then there was Frank being remanded to a psychiatric facility after he killed Victor Clooney. Toby hadn't been able to even say goodbye to him, to see if he remembered anything else about his mother and where she might have disappeared to, a search they had been forced to give up after finding her abandoned car in Auburn. It had broken his friend and still almost a month later he seemed unable to get his life back together.

"I'm good," Toby muttered as he tried to block out the sound of Oz moving about his apartment. There was the distinct sound of glass clinking against more glass. He winced at how loud it was, but didn't bother saying anything as he kept his arm pressed over his eyes. If he just ignored him maybe he'd go away.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself," Oz said after dropping one of those glass bottles in the recycle bin with a bit more force than necessary.

Toby grumbled under his breath as he turned on the sofa, putting his back to the rest of the room. That was not what he wanted to hear right then. All he wanted was to go back to the blissful inebriated state he'd been in before he'd fallen asleep earlier that morning. It helped not to think, to forget what he'd seen and heard and caused. The memories of getting the call from Liv telling him that Charlie had taken a turn for the worse, being blocked from entering her room by Detective Becker, and then watching from a distance as they buried her in the frozen earth. Those memories were too much for him then and as they flashed through his mind again he knew they were still too much to deal with.

"Charlie wouldn't want you to do this to yourself," Oz told him as he started tossing the take out that Toby must have left out last night, or the day before by the smell of it. He really needed to get a hold of himself. This wasn't getting him anywhere.

"Go away, Oz," Toby muttered, his voice muffled by the cushions.

"No, I-I'm not going anywhere, Toby. This has to end. Ryder's riding me about what's going on with you. You've fallen off the deep end, man, and that's not good. Liv is worried sick. She said she tried to come by the other night and you weren't here. I didn't tell her you've taken to just ignoring the door," Oz reprimanded him, his voice getting stronger and more determined as he spoke.

"You're not going to leave are you?" Toby asked with a groan.

"No," Oz replied evenly.

Toby groaned again as he pushed himself up and over onto his back. He squinted against the light and fought back a wave of nausea as he looked to Oz. There was concern on his face and with his mind already floating detached from everything else he could hear Oz's silent mutterings.

_You look terrible. When was the last time you shaved? You're scaring the crap out of me._

Toby rubbed at his temples and sighed. "I'm fine, Oz."

"Don't do that to me, man. I might not be able to read your mind, but I'm not blind. You're so far from fine that if Liv were here she'd have an intervention," Oz grumbled.

"Is that what this is then? An intervention?" Toby asked with a bitter laugh.

"No, this is your concerned friend coming over to help you out because you refuse to answer your phone," he replied.

Toby rubbed at his bloodshot eyes and then scratched at the short beard that lined the lower half of his face. His stomach gurgled menacingly and he fought the urge to drown it in more liquor. The half empty bottle of whiskey that had been sitting on the coffee table had disappeared. He assumed Oz had put it somewhere.

"Where's my whiskey?" Toby asked.

There was a flash of Oz pouring it down the drain and Toby muttered in irritation. The last thing he needed was his best Irish getting poured down the drain. He shakily got to his feet and headed for the kitchen. He was sure he had another bottle somewhere. It was probably best if he found the bottle and some food while he was awake.

"Why are you doing this to yourself? It's not your fault," Oz said.

Toby's fingers curled into his palm and tightened into a fist. The last thing he wanted to talk about was blame. It was his fault. Charlie would still be alive if he hadn't gotten her involved in his problems. If he hadn't told her his secret then she wouldn't have been killed, Frank wouldn't have been arrested and thrown into a psychiatric institute, and maybe he'd have finally found his mother, even if it meant being taken by Victor Clooney, or whatever his name really was. No, Oz was wrong. It was his fault and nothing anyone said would change his mind of that.

"I know you blame yourself, if you didn't you wouldn't be here wasting your life and drinking yourself stupid," Oz told him. He watched as his friend dug through the refrigerator for something to eat. Oz wasn't even sure if Toby was listening to him at that point, but he wasn't going to stop talking just because he wasn't acknowledging him. He had to get through to him. "Charlie saved your life and Frank's that day. She died protecting you and this is how you're repaying her? You're just going to lay around your apartment in a drunken stupor because you blame yourself for her death? I wonder what she'd say if she could see you now, man."

Toby should have felt angry at the words, should have felt offended, something, but he didn't. It broke through him, broke everything inside. She would be appalled by his presence if she could see him. That was Charlie though, the tough as nails detective that no one trifled with. She could hold her own better than anyone he knew. He leaned his head against the refrigerator door, tears burning in his eyes as he fought the wave of guilt and regret.

"I got her killed," Toby whispered and he breathed in a ragged breath as he turned to look back at Oz.

"No, you didn't. You want to blame someone for what happened, blame Victor Clooney. He was the one that shot her, he was the one that killed her, not you," Oz told him.

"She died because of me, Oz, because of what I can do. Any minute I'm expecting someone to come bursting through my door again to take me to wherever it is I came from, to threaten the people in my life I care about if I don't go. It's dangerous to be around me. I'm a danger to everyone," Toby said as he leaned back against the refrigerator. He crossed his arms over his white shirt as he stared past Oz.

"It's been nearly a month, Toby, and no one has come. We don't even know if that Victor guy told anyone about you. No one else is coming for you," Oz reassured him.

Toby leaned his head back against the door and looked up at the ceiling. His head was pounding incessantly and his stomach seemed to ache just as badly. The sun hurt his eyes, but he didn't close them, forcing himself to finally face the last month and everything that had happened.

Oz shook his head at his friend as he moved to the sink, taking down a glass from the cupboard beside it, and filling it with cold water. Toby was lost inside his own head again he was sure, but at least he'd made more effort at conversation today than he had over the course of the last few weeks. He held the glass out to his friend as he leaned against the counter. Toby tried to pretend it wasn't there, but Oz sent him a forewarning image of him tossing the water on him if he didn't take it. With a sigh he took the glass and drank half of it within seconds. He didn't want to admit it helped soothe the burn in the back of his throat and his churning stomach.

"You look terrible," Oz commented finally breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

Toby laughed darkly and looked down at the glass of water in his hands.

"I told Liv we'd meet her for lunch," Oz told him.

Toby sighed then as he looked over to Oz. There was a sheepish look on his face as well as a smile. It was warm, familiar, and very Oz. He'd been ignoring him for the last few weeks, hiding out in his apartment, and yet Oz had stopped by nearly every day to clean up his mess and talk to him. Most days he didn't even respond, just listened to Oz telling him about the people he'd helped that day or rambling about sports. There were those days he tried to get through to him, but they were few and far between. Those days ended in Toby withdrawing to take a shower and not returning until the water was icy cold and he was sure Oz had left. Mostly it was just running commentary about superficial things that didn't require him to feel anything at all. The best thing about it all was that Oz didn't even need him to talk, he just kept talking himself. He could keep up a running conversation with himself and never tire of it, but today he'd had enough and today Toby had chosen to listen instead of retreating.

"What time is this lunch at?" Toby asked, admitting defeat with a slump of his shoulders.

"You have an hour. Go clean yourself up and for the love of God take a shower. You're starting to smell as bad as the day old take out," Oz said, his excitement showing in the way he clapped his hands together and bounced on his toes for a second.

Toby downed the rest of the water before heading off to get ready. There were a lot of things he still needed to figure out with his life, things he had to accept, and things he had to give up. He still felt responsible for what happened to Charlie and he knew he always would. He was going to have to learn to live with that thought and to stop punishing himself. He was also going to have to gain more control over his abilities again, to relearn how to block out the voices. Too many people had gotten hurt because he'd failed to stay out of police business. That wasn't going to happen anymore. He was going to stop using his ability to stick his nose in other people's problems. It only resulted in trouble, danger, and pain for everyone involved.

Oz rubbed his hands over his face after he watched Toby head off to shower and change. He hadn't been expecting his words to work today, but they had. Maybe Toby was finally coming out of his state of depression. After weeks of watching his friend distance himself from everyone he was glad to see a spark of life return to him. Now all he had to do was make sure it didn't go out. He wasn't really looking forward to that task, but he felt optimistic. Toby was up, moving around, and even agreeing to go out to lunch. That in itself was an achievement and Oz was sure that in time Toby would return to his normal self. Not that he'd call Toby normal at all, but that wasn't the point.

By the time Toby had stepped out of the bathroom he was already feeling more like himself. He ran a hand over his smooth jawline as he went about finding something clean to wear. It had been a while since he'd shaved. He almost felt naked without the beard and moustache that had adorned his face for the last few weeks. It was familiar though, the image in the mirror and that was comforting. He pulled on what was left of his semi-clean clothes and stepped out to find Oz reading a magazine.

"I almost didn't recognise you," Oz said as he glanced up. "You look like this friend of mine, Toby Logan, heard of him?"

"Ha ha, let's go," Toby replied as he pulled on his coat and clothes. A small smile twitched at the corner of his lips though.

Oz smiled to himself as he got to his feet, dropping the magazine back onto the coffee table. There were still a lot of rough times ahead for his friend, he knew that. He wasn't out of the woods yet, but that spark was still there. It had been reignited and that's all that mattered to Oz right then. Toby was going to get through this. Hopefully one day he'd even let go of the guilt he felt over Charlie's death. Until then he'd be there for Toby, helping him through each day.


End file.
